Gunner: Now or Never
by Avast
Summary: AU. Irvine is an outlaw and kills a lot. Can Selphie lock away the man she loves? Selphie and Irvine


AU. Irvine is an outlaw and kills a lot. Selphie and Irvine

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**_Gunner: Now or Never_**

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Chapter One

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**_Downtown Balamb_**

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A smile that could light a thousand torches, all triggered by the sadness surrounding his heart. Irvine Kinneas fired the shot, wincing as the body crumbled to the ground. He slowly began to jog towards the exit; eyes concentrated on the next victim. Six to go. Sweat clamped his hands as his eyes pierced through the crowded bar. Bodies swayed to the offbeat music, selling their souls to the music. Didn't they see? His heart drummed against his chest, picking up the speed as he came nearer.

Her brown hair dissipated and reasons: gone. His home wasn't even his home anymore. He was a man guilty of falling in love too easily and for the crime, he went insane. Not insane, just… tired. Tired of reasoning with her. She didn't even see how much he loved her, she just flung herself to the closest man. And that man wasn't him.

He didn't know what he was doing but doing was what he was doing. Six bodies lay on the floor of the bar, all on different corners and one in the middle of the dance floor. Yet, people kept on dancing, some wrinkled their noses in displeasure but none noticed the body bleeding its soul out. Still, he had six more to go and six he more he would.

Faint footsteps broke his concentration, his fingers tightened around the gun as he whirled around. _Nothing..._ God, this job was making him paranoid. He slowly turned back around, sauntering through the crowd, making his way as girls eyed his face but nervously dropping their eyes as soon as they saw the gun clutched to his hands.

_Pretty faces, later_, he mentally thought as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. His body throbbed in lust and in anticipation. The sooner he got the job done, the sooner he could drop the fucking gun off and grab a beer, and probably a bite to eat. Probably, no.

That was on his things to do list, besides… red and blue lights flashed in the tinted windows, he already had a feeling settling in the bottom of his stomach that the police would be called. It was probably for the reason he wasn't thinking on, the party got to wild, some fifteen year old was missing her curfew and got raped in the process of defying her parents.

Sadness, honestly. Irvine eyed the red exit light as he flowed with the crowd that was calmly walking out of the door. Good, no panic. He would hate to add more people to his list. He was already on page twenty two, not that long for a gunner with psychotic tendencies but long enough for a person who was slightly wavering between sane and inane.

God he was tired, and it wasn't even twelve. Though, Irvine liked to make it a habit to go to bed before ten and rise before seven for he could be refreshed for the next morning. He wasn't one to be tired on the job, tiredness cost him his accuracy and he got paid because of his shoot skills.

And tomorrow was going to be another morning of unsolved murders pointing fingers at him and his face plastered on CNN and wanted billboards. They couldn't catch him, he just blended in with the crowd.

Already disposing of his brown jacket and picking up a nice disguisable black one. It was a bit of a change, it didn't fit him though. It hung loosely from his body and was clothed on tattered blood.

"Hello muchacho."

Did everyone just wanted to annoy him? The bastard hadn't even showed his face but yet was already talking shit. It was sad. Shouldn't the one who was doing the killing have all the cool bad-ass catch phrases not the one being killed? Irvine narrowed his brown eyes as he picked up his rife, slowly moving it towards the loud obnoxious voice.

"Shut the fuck up, _muchacho_," Irvine spat, "And show your face, coward!"

"All this name calling…" the man chuckled, "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"I don't have a mother, so don't bring up somebody who doesn't exist," Irvine retorted, "Now, where do you want me to shot you? I'm all gamed for requests but if I don't think the wound is enough to kill you, I'll shoot you far more times than you can imagine, and that's before I kill you!"

Irvine sighed, "I'm growing tired, show your face or I'll just shoot."

He cranked his rife again, listening to the sound echo throughout the city. Just that sound brought shivers to his heart. It was fear that was penetrating through the young person's heart. He was sure of it. Irvine again scanned the dark alley as the boy appeared along with five others.

Irvine chuckled slightly as he began mentally checking off the names, Ricardo, Carton, Jalil, Klaus, and some other guy. He boldly smiled as he pulled the trigger, shooting the one closest to his right. One down, four to go. Irvine watched as the bullets fired through the first ones body, blood pouring out like a fucking river. The crimson began squirting on his jacket, making him hiss in annoyance. He hated blood; it was hard to get out.

"Which one of you fuckers called me a 'boy'?" Irvine yelled angrily as fingers began pointed hysterically, "If I don't get a straight answer, I'm going to take this little mishaps to your home and kill your wives. Nobody's talking? All right."

Irvine reloaded his rife, as he cranked it again, pointing at the boy in the middle or the one who was in the middle. That was before he killed off the scrawny boy who should've been home.

The moon glistened onto their bodies, showing the wet liquids on their faces. Their fears were wild in their eyes as one began to fumble for a gun. Irvine whirled the gun towards the one attempting to shoot him and shot him.

A headache exploded in his left ear. Shit, the impact and the loudness of the fire were getting to him. His eye throbbed infected his vision, he squinted as he hulled the gun onto his shoulder. God he wanted to hurl, he began wobbling as he inhaled deeply, trying to regain his concentration.

It was his fucking luck to begin to lose his vision, without his vision his accuracy was off around 20%, but there was still an 8 out of 10 chance that he would hit one of those motherfuckers. Knowing those idiots, they would walk straight into the bullet.

"It was Ricardo," one erupted, "but you already shot him."

"Well, I can shoot you too," Irvine grunted as he placed the gun between his hands and fired.

No explosion, no bodies crumbling to the ground. He missed. Irvine flung off his black trenchcoat as he snarled as he hurled the gun towards the ground and lunged towards something, anything.

Anything for he can regain his pride, even though he wasn't trained in fighting without a gun totally, he still had some lessons just in case. Just in case his gun gets kicked out of his hands and there's no time to reach for it, or just in case he ran out of ammo. Who would've thought he would get a fucking headache that impairs his fucking vision?

"You missed, fucker." Another chuckled.

"Gee, thanks for pointing out the obvious," Irvine snapped as he grabbed someone's throat and began to strangle.

Irvine began to blink rapidly as the four boys came into vision. He grunted angrily as he punched the one he was strangling in the face and in the process grabbed the neck of another, slamming him into the one being strangled. So, he wasn't killing them but once he got them all to the ground he would shoot them in the cold sweat that his body was producing.

"Man, you psycho," a man replied in a thick Spanish accent.

"Stupid asshole you lied to me! Or he did, whoever did!" Irvine snapped, "You're the idiot who called me muchacho. Well _muchacho_ this!"

Irvine slammed his fist into Ricardo's mouth, making him fall to the floor. Where was the other fucker? They would all pay for the headache that throbbed in his ear, mysteriously causing him to wince and feel nauseated. Irvine's eyes began to water as he dodged the only guy who wasn't down.

Irvine skid across the rocky pavement, grasping onto his rife and pounded the gun into the mister's leg. He sighed as he stood up gracefully, firing off the last four, only using eighteen bullets, eight for Ricardo and his big mouth.

"Even blinded I could've whooped your asses," Irvine retorted quietly as he picked up his trenchcoat and spat on Ricardo.

Even dead that son of gun pissed him off. He sighed as soon as he exited the alley. The stench was nauseating, how he done it he did not know. Irvine stopped in the crosswalk as his stomach growled.

Scratch the beer, a advil and some food would be nice. Irvine glanced into the city moon, sighing again, did they ever think of him? Could they imagine? Irvine Kinneas… the man with the gun for hire? Bet they couldn't.

_I wonder if she ever thinks of me. _

Keep your pants on boy, she stop thinking of you a long time ago, Irvine thought bitterly as he lit a cigarette and faded into the crowd.

I'm glad you've read my story. There is some alteration of personalities, Irvine and Selphie's for one. It makes the story complete, and it adds to the plot.

_-Avast_


End file.
